


strangers in the night

by mairesmagicshop



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 19:46:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15565104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mairesmagicshop/pseuds/mairesmagicshop
Summary: Julian makes a daring trip to the palace with a special gift for Sévérine.





	strangers in the night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [@fawnsummer](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%40fawnsummer).



> My 100 Tumblr follower giveaway fic for @fawnsummer, starring her amazingly lovely apprentice, Sévérine.

Well, these are strange days, Sévérine thought, gazing around the ornate bedroom - and she was nothing if not an expert in peculiar goings-on. Between the onset of her magic and the loss of her sight in her left eye, the last few years had not been uneventful, but still; being here in the palace, having agreed to play the role of chief investigator - what was she thinking? She had no particular skills to qualify for such a charge, no desire to hold a man’s very life in her hands. Certainly not that particular man, she thought, her mind wandering to the days and hours before.

The infamous “Dr. Jules” had been nothing like she’d expected. He’d first intimidated her, the red, glassy eyes of his mask like some kind of monstrous creature of her childhood nightmares. Menaced her, in her own shop! But unmasked, he was just a man; sarcastic, with an easy grin and a glint of mischief in his gray eyes. Handsome, even. And oh, how that had irritated her to no end: the flush of heat up through her ears when he’d locked his hand around her wrist and advanced on her, pressing her back against the counter, asking her about Asra’s whereabouts; the way she trembled at the dangerous proximity; how quickly she’d complied, even then seeking to please, though she didn’t have the faintest idea where Asra was. Worst of all, his gloved finger against her cheek, catching the endless slow creep of tears from her sightless eye, brow quizzical and frustratingly concerned.

That first encounter was now two nights past, and the throaty bark of a raven outside brought her back to herself, to this night. The ridiculous race to find one of the guards, hoping that whoever she could catch would have her Emperor card, and finding herself at the lemonstone gate. She’d wanted to leave it all behind her, flee for home and seal the door against the world. As usual, fate had other plans, and had dumped her rather unceremoniously at the feet of none other than Julian Devorak – well, into a barrel near his feet, anyway.

How different he’d appeared then, his face unguarded and friendly, auburn hair caught in the breeze as he plucked her out of the small wooden prison she’d stumbled into. She’d pitched forward, directly into his broad chest, her hand landing in the slight hollow above his heart. She felt strange in that moment, nearly laughing out loud at the impossibility of it all; she felt fevered, a shiver fluttering up through her chest as he gripped her arms to steady her. And curiously, in his embrace, she did not feel compelled to run.

Instead, she joined him – joined him! – and allowed him to buy her a drink. To her surprise, he seemed like a lovely person, actually; not the sort of person who would go around murdering people (though, she reminded herself, that’s likely what a murderer would want you to think about them). He’d been chatty, endearing, a bit flirtatious, and Sévérine… well, she’d liked it. Liked him, admittedly. They’d had to part company too soon, she thought, before she could find out more about him, and she wondered where and when she might find him again. After this evening, she was sworn to Countess Nadia to catching the errant Dr. Devorak, an escaped convict. A killer. And she could not say it was remotely in her heart to try.

Strange days, indeed.

Julian was taking a hell of risk, this he knew. He was still on the lam, hunting for answers – so many maddening dead ends, he thought, muttering to himself as he worked. And just as he thought he was closing in on a lead, yet another mystery dropped into the perverse play that had become his life. A beautiful, white-haired wisp of one, to boot. Sévérine. He sighed, speaking her name aloud as he whisked the familiar ingredients together; a tincture to stay the tears of a persistently weeping eye.

He regretted the way he’d treated her in her shop; couldn’t believe she’d gone willingly into the Rowdy Raven with him the next night. That wasn’t him, he thought with disgust. Or was it? Is this what desperation had caused him to become? Or was the murderer’s brand truly a testament to his moral bankruptcy, in every last respect? He felt the foul mood descending upon him; clenching his teeth, he swallowed, as if easier to digest it than let the sour notes crash about in his mind for the next several hours.

He turned his focus to his task, instead, and conjured Sévérine’s face in his mind; the infinite depths of her wide eyes, the left veiled and sightless, and was steadied. This was for her, he thought firmly. No matter what I’ve done, I can help someone - help her. But as treacherous and false as he knew himself to be, he could at least be honest with himself on this particular matter. It wasn’t just for her.

Beyond the persistent sting of failure each time he glimpsed the shore of the cursed Lazaret; beyond the drive to prove to the world that he wasn’t an idiot, a hack, or perhaps worst of all, a pawn of forces greater than himself; beyond all of it, there was just Sévérine, and her curious gaze, and her soft, pink smile, and the place between them where he felt… something… something undefinable and alluring, and he was sure she felt it, too. He hungered to see her again, and it was no matter that she was staying at the palace. If they arrested him while in service to Sévérine, it would be a good death, he thought. He stoppered up the solution securely in its vial, turning it over in his hand and running his thumb over the smooth glass. But part of him still wanted to hope that there was more than one path to redemption, something beyond the curl of the rope upon the gibbet. He wrapped his dark coat around his shoulders, placing the vial gently into his pocket, and stepped out into the night.

When he’d returned to Vesuvia, his purpose there had been singular. Events of late had forked the road, he thought as he walked, an unfamiliar tug in his chest. He could not allow this – her - to become a distraction. And yet, even now, even as new as they were to each other, he suspected it was too late.

· 

The trees outside the guest wing of the palace were quite old, established, their branches sturdy and high, and they were perfect for climbing – so much for increased security, Julian smirked to himself as he scaled his way to the balcony with ease. He pressed up on his toes, his fingers curving around the stone columns, and peered inside. Sévérine was there, and he could not stop himself from smiling; seated on the bed, absentmindedly twirling a lock of her white hair.

Lost in her thoughts, Sévérine heard the raven call again, followed by a hoarse whisper just outside her window.

“Sev? Ahem… er… Sévérine?”

She startled, nearly screaming out loud, her hand clutched against her throat, but she recognized the voice as she looked out, eyes narrowed, onto the balcony. Sure enough, she spotted a telltale mop of unruly hair peeking through the balustrade. She hurried over and confirmed the identity of the would-be intruder.

“Julian!” she hissed. “What are you doing here?”

He gave her an insouciant smile. “Oh, you know, just hanging around my old stomping grounds…”

“Julian, really,” she whispered. “Get in here, before anyone sees you!”

“How lovely of you to invite me in!” he said brightly, vaulting over the ledge, coming to face her. It really was good to see her again, he thought. It had only been a few hours since they’d parted, but still. Still.

“Yes, well – come in then, and keep quiet, will you?” Eyeing him up and down, she took him by the elbow and pulled him inside, gesturing to a table and chairs in the center of the room. Even though his coat, he felt the warmth of the contact seeping pleasantly down into his skin, to his very core.

“Wouldn’t it save you some trouble if I were not?” he said as he sat.

Sévérine felt annoyed and elated all at once. “No, Julian, it would not.” She sat down across from him then, trying to rein in any trace of girlish excitement. “I have hardly any information about you or the Count’s death and I… wait a minute.” She paused, pursing her lips. “How did you even know where I was, or what I’m supposed to be doing?”

A wide smile crossed his face as he sat back, stretching lazily in his chair. “I have my sources, my dear. But in any case, I’m not here tonight to surrender myself to you. Unless, of course, you’ve got some shackles hidden somewhere in here – then I think I might change my mind.”

“Is that so?” she retorted, hoping she sounded more at ease than she felt. Shackles? Her heart skipped a beat. Goodness.

Julian just continued to grin in response, his brow arched suggestively. “That is so, Sev. Have you no idea how lovely you are? Why, a man could lose his head and much more over you.” He leaned forward, his chin propped on his gloved fist. Too much, he thought, unable to read her blank expression. That may have been a little too much. “But that’s not why I’m here, I – apologize if I was too forward just then.”

His words had left her heart trembling, and as Sévérine gazed into his visible eye, she became suddenly very aware of her own circumstances – in a bedroom at night, alone with a man who was little more than an attractive stranger who might possibly be dangerous. A tingle of anxiety sang up her spine. So why, then, did she feel so flushed and warm with his face tilted up toward hers? How could his teasing about being restrained make her feel all turned over inside? She managed a weak smile nevertheless.

“No, no, it’s… it’s fine, really. But why are you here, Julian?” She held his gaze firmly, daring him to turn away.

Julian cleared his throat and reached into his coat, drawing forth the vial hidden within. He held it up for her inspection, the iridescent contents catching the dim light in a mesmerizing swirl. “I came to deliver this to you. It’s a tincture I made myself, tried and true. It will help your eye stay dry, for a time. If you apply a small amount three times a day…”

He continued his explanation, dosages and some such thing, but his voice slowly slipped away, as she were standing down a long tunnel and straining to make out the words. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, with gratitude. He barely knew her, and would risk capture to help her damn weeping eye? She could not believe it, and shook her head as she stared at him in bewilderment.

“Julian, I…” she began.

“Would you like me to show you, then?” he asked, rising from his seat and stripping his gloves from his hands. He strode over to the large mirror opposite the bed, and beckoned her. But she did not - could not - move.

“Julian, I can’t believe you… why? I mean, you barely know me, and I just…” She fractured the words, not finding the right ones to put together, unable to capture everything she wanted to say. And all the while, underlying everything, the sheer horror of feeling completely exposed as her left eye began to water in earnest.

Concern lined his visage and his eyes softened upon her. Slowly, he came back to her, arms outstretched, his hands coming to rest just below her narrow shoulders.

“If I may be so bold,” he started, his voice low, “I just want to help. I don’t… I don’t get to do that much anymore.”

She gave him a hard look, her chin raised defiantly. “I’ll take no man’s pity.”

He tutted softly, bringing an audacious finger down her cheek, cupping her chin. “A doctor’s oath is not pity, you darling girl. If you truly don’t want my help, then there’s undoubtedly someone in the Flooded District who could use this. But, please know I made it for you, with the hope that it would help you, and perhaps… perhaps you might think better of me, when all is said and done.”

He was so earnest, so tender; Sévérine nearly reached up for him before stopping herself. But she could not deny the thrill she felt at their closeness, the attraction she felt as he held her so close and yet not close enough; and as uncomfortable as she felt about attentions devoted to her eye, she was touched, and resolved that she would try it, if only to show him that she appreciated the gesture. That she was open to him, to whatever this was, budding between them.

Casting her eyes down, she nodded. “All right,” she said. “Can you show me, then?”

Julian grinned eagerly, and led her over to the mirror, standing behind her. Sévérine felt herself take half a step back, until her back brushed against his chest, and he looked down - as if to confirm that she had, in fact, nuzzled up to him - face infused with color, before regaining his composure.

“Well then, take just a small drop on your finger, and apply it like so…” Sévérine watched as his slender hand crossed in front of her, ghosting over her face, and she trembled slightly, his touch electric; the slightest trace of his fingertip, cool and steady, at the very edge of her left eye. “Then close your eye for a moment before opening it again,” he instructed, his fingers bold, gliding down her cheek, to her neck, across her collarbone, to rest on her shoulder.

Miraculously, when she opened her eyes, the constant creep from her left eye had stopped. She felt a strange, fuzzy sort of feeling there, but it wasn’t unpleasant, and her eye felt drier than it had since… well, since before she could remember. She met his gaze in the mirror, unbelieving, relieved, releasing the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and sank back into him, smiling, encouraging his embrace.

Julian felt like his heart might burst as he folded his arms around her - she felt so small pressed against him, and yet like she was meant for all the places they touched. As his hands slid up her arms, she turned her face down and pressed a searing kiss to the side of his thumb, looking up at him through her lashes all the while, coy in the reflection. “Thank you,” she murmured. If she knew anything about the playful Dr. Devorak, she thought, he would know it for a dare.

For his part, he recognized the overtures of temptation when he saw them, and he grinned rakishly at her, one eye closing. “So sweet… ah, Sévérine…” He used his grip on her to spin her around, one hand dropping to her lower back, the other coming behind her slender neck, fingers twining in her hair. “Did we know each other in a past life, I wonder?” he asked. “Something about you, I – I don’t know what else to think, I just – “

But he could not finish.

Marshalling her courage, Sévérine pushed to her toes in one quick motion and caught his lips between hers. Oh, how his arms tightened around her then, pulling her in as far as she’d go, and she giggled deep in her throat, throwing her arms around his neck.

The sound she made was silvery-musical to his ears, the strumming of an impish harp, and he couldn’t keep his hands still on her. She responded in kind, loosing his coat from his shoulders and letting her own hands roam freely over him.

“I don’t know what to think either,” she whispered roughly, one hand finding its way into the back of his hair, encouraging him back. He smiled against her mouth, and as her lips parted, he found her tongue, pleasure pulsing steadily in his chest, circulating through his bloodstream, his nerves set aflame.

She crested against him until the backs of his knees met the edge of the bed, the roll of her eager tide unceasing, and she only briefly wondered at the surge in her confidence before giving herself over to the heady feelings of losing all control. Everything about him was new, terribly exciting – but somehow familiar, and it was this feeling of comfort that dulled the edge of any apprehensions she may have had as she pushed him gently down to sit on the bed, and straddled his lap, her mouth never leaving his.

He was breathless as she tucked herself atop him, kneeling astride. There’d been a tension in her before; he’d felt it when he was applying the tincture to her eye, but now she was pure liquid motion, all curves and molten metal, forging his desire, undeniable and hard beneath her. His palm flat against her back, fingers splayed, he broke from the kiss to taste the length of her neck, luminous in the candlelight, rewarded by her small noises of pleasure.

Their hands found each other at Sévérine’s hips, and as she nudged her hips forward, the ripple of arousal fanning outward, a hard knock sounded from the door.

“Mistress Sévérine? I have your tea, ma’am.”

The two of them snapped to attention as Julian rose, his hands on Sévérine’s waist, placing her gingerly on the floor. How could she have forgotten that she’d ordered tea? “Just a moment!” she called, trying to sound casual. “I’m just changing.”

“Of course, my lady – I’ll just wait out here.”

“Well, could you… could you just leave it, please?” Sévérine bit her lip, looking stricken, while Julian crept around the room to collect his things, appearing on the verge of laughter.

The voice paused. “My lady, I couldn’t – the tea will not serve itself!”

“Oh for the love of…” she trailed off, shrugging at Julian. But he did not look dismayed – amused, if anything else.

“I think I’d better be off,” Julian said in a low voice, gloves and coat already back on. He was nothing if not swift when immediate departures were required.

“And I’d better get changed,” Sévérine answered quietly.

“And, oh, how sorry I am to miss that,” he said with a wink, both sets of shoulders shaking with silent laughter, a shared promise in their gaze. She trailed behind him as he stepped over the railing and began to lower himself from the balcony, but not before kissing her, hard, his hand fisted in her hair, finally willing himself to part from her. “Until we meet again,” he said, the starlit heavens reflecting in his eye, cool leather skipping down her jawline.

“Until we meet again,” she echoed. He glanced up one last time, blowing a theatrical kiss up to her as the darkness enveloped him, the plaintive cry of a raven on the wind.


End file.
